Affair
by Lily Potter-Malfoy
Summary: Alone in a house with a small child as her only company, a woman starts a relationship with a man. The pull between them is magnetic and undeniable, the result of years of longing. But this woman is married, taken. The question is, can she remember that?


Haven't been here in a while...**   
First Part**

Little Ginger tottered across the kitchen floor, chasing after a ball that was charmed to roll off just when she had reached it but not lead her anywhere dangerous. She would be oblivious to anything and everything for hours. Ron had just departed for work at the Ministry with a hurried kiss on the cheek and a brief pause to slide his hands across her still flat stomach where their second baby nestled. She indulged him and allowed the touch without swatting him off as she usually did. When he was gone, disapparated out of sight, she sighed and went back into their house. It was a testament to how far they had come, the house that overlooked the small village it skirted the edges of and sat at the end of a long straight road enshrouded thickly by trees. They never wanted for anything, and she would not have to lift a finger for the six remaining months of her pregnancy, they had a fleet of (paid) house elves to do the tasks a wife and mother usually did around the house. Hermione would welcome any task really; she had taken leave from work because of constant pestering from Ron, Harry, and even Ginny. All because her last pregnancy had been a little rough on her they suddenly became so serious about it. The baby inside her, very bluntly put, was a mistake; it had not been meant to come into existence; Ron hadn't wanted another after he saw what Ginger had done to Hermione's body. He really was so loving, so caring, and such a wonderful husband.

She wandered to her bedroom, the bedroom she shared with Ron, and went about getting ready to face a day that stretched out ahead of her, a vast and mostly empty one with little fulfillment in it that she could see or think of. And then it was upon her again, the crushing, stifling feeling that had attacked her since her first day in the house, alone but for house elves and a small child. The house, though very spacious, felt like the close confines of a prison to her and she recoiled from the thought of being indoors all day, so she spent as much time as possible outside the house. She wandered the enchanted gardens in the backyard and sometimes walked the length of the long driveway and peered wistfully through the bars of the gate at the village below her. Yes, it was only her and her child in the house, but she felt alone, deprived of any adult contact until Ron came home at night. Even then it was hard to feel joy as he regaled her with tales from the Ministry, the things he addressed as mundane and pointless seemed endlessly exciting to her. He didn't even know how much he had, he didn't know how she longed for what he had every day, and he didn't know how she grew to resent him for his freedom. And, oh how she hated him! How she hated his stupid red hair, his stupid freckles, his even stupider voice! Those nights as they sat at the dinner table and she played with her food and listened resentfully to his complaints, his jokes, his stories _'he has a life' _she thought, _'he has a purpose to exist outside of this house and he's taken my purpose away from me, they all have'. _A part of her mind would protest these thoughts, would bring her back to herself in moments of gripping hatred. She was, after all, a very smart witch. She knew as sure as she knew her own name that it was not his or Harry's or Ginny's intention to sever her connection with the world, to trap her in her house until it was reduced to nothing but a prison for her. She knew that and yet the feelings of loneliness, resentment, and abandonment continued to grow, nurtured by the long days alone in the house and lack of communication. Yes, she was alone, more alone than she found she'd been in her life. Every day it was her and her child who couldn't have known her mother's suffering and remained, as children are wont to do, oblivious to the problems her mother faced. Hermione placated herself with the thought that, in mere months, the baby would be born and she could return to living her life.

It was just after the fourth month had ended that it happened. She hadn't been feeling well for some time, hadn't eaten well, hadn't slept well. She was in the living room with Ginger watching a wizard cartoon called "Founders" (about the founders of Hogwarts and their various misadventures) with the little girl. It was exactly as cartoon Rowena Ravenclaw gasped in shock that the first wave of pain hit her. It would be the first of many as she later found out. She collapsed to the ground clutching her stomach, another wave of pain hit her and left her gasping for breath. The energy had all but left her body then and, with the last of her strength, she told Ginger to call her dad and to hurry. The last thing she heard before she succumbed to the pain was Ginger's high pitched gibberish somewhere in the house and Ron's voice but by then she was already slipping into the waiting blackness of blissful unconsciousness.

Peace, quiet, darkness. They were the attributes that characterized the world she was in. Vaguely she thought that she must be dead, she must be floating in the otherworld.

"…'nuff fussing! I think she's moving" an awfully familiar voice pierced through the darkness. It seemed that this voice shattered the rest of her heaven and flung her violently back to reality. Instantly white hot knives of pain stabbed at her and she gasped. The effect was immediate; she felt hands on her and someone calling for the mediwizard. She cracked open her eyes, she saw red.

"Ron?" she couldn't keep her eyes open for very long but she saw the vague blurry peach and red figure nod. She dropped back into unconsciousness then.

When she was healthy enough to keep awake for more than five minutes they told her the baby had aborted itself. She listened with strange impartiality as the mediwizard explained to her the reasons. He asked her if she'd been eating, not really, if she'd slept well, not really, if she knew she had a weak body for childbearing, she had a vague idea. He told her she was capable of bearing children as long as she took very careful care of herself which she apparently hadn't been doing. No, it wasn't her fault the baby had died, her body hadn't been able to take it this time around, it was probably too soon after giving birth to Ginger, yes they could try again but they'd have to wait maybe a year or so. She asked if he'd told her husband all this and he said yes, are those all your questions, alright you should keep coming in for checkups, you're free to go whenever you feel up to it. Ron arrived then, as if on cue, and told her to get ready, they were going home. He didn't look at her even once. She dressed and packed her things to go to a house she'd never been less willing to return to in her life.

When they got into the house, up the stairs, and to their room, Ron couldn't hold himself any longer.

"You haven't been eating?" he sounded very tightly reigned in, as if the full amount of emotion behind the words was bound inside of him and he was struggling to keep it in. Hermione felt tired, too tired to entertain his temper, she answered with an affirmative "hmm" and unpacked her things from the small suitcase she'd brought with her.

"And sleep? And taking those vitamins Ginny got for you? You haven't done either?" his control was slipping, she could tell by the way his voice shook. She answered with another noise and went on unpacking as nonchalantly as she had been.

"And what did they tell you when we found out you were pregnant again? WHAT DID THE DOCTORS SAY!?" his control was gone, blown away in the face of her indifference. She refused to face him and continued to unpack only shrugging in answer to his shouted question. Suddenly she felt hands grip her arms like steel vices and spin her around. She was met with her husband's eyes which were full of emotion. The fear, the pain, and mostly the anger that had been living in him since she'd collapsed, maybe even since she'd become pregnant, all showed there in his eyes.

"I'll tell you what they said since you seem to have forgotten! They told us we had to be careful because your body wasn't good at handling pregnancy! They told you to take care of yourself so that what happened with Ginger wouldn't repeat itself! They said everything should go fine as long as we were careful! As long as YOU were careful!" his shouting broke through her calm, her resolve not to yell. Suddenly anger flooded her and strength seemed to return to her,

"IT ISN'T MY FAULT! I didn't do ANYTHING!" she screamed at him, trying to jerk her body free of his grip. But he refused to let her go,

"No…no you didn't do anything Hermione. That's the problem, you didn't take care of yourself, you didn't think of the baby OR of yourself." He said in a vicious whisper. She glared at him,

"And what happened to 'we're in this together!' or 'I'll take care of you'? What happened to that!? Why is it only my fault when things go wrong!?" she spat. At these words he had smiled mirthlessly at her,

"I never said it was all your fault Hermione, I never said that. I should have watched you more carefully; I should have known you weren't taking care of yourself. I blame myself for not watching you closer, for thinking you'd know enough to take care of yourself and the unborn child inside you. But you can't say it's my fault that you didn't do any of the things they told you to do!" His tone had turned bitter towards the end and he wasn't even looking at her any more.

"What do you even know Ron! You were out every day living your life, leaving me in this house with no one! Nothing to do! You were so caught up in whatever it was you were doing that you didn't notice anything!" she cried, letting go of the resentful thoughts she'd harbored for such a long time. He looked at her then, incredulously and with re-kindling anger.

"Do you think I went off every day to have fun and drink with my mates? Do you think I did it because I like it? You think I wouldn't rather sit around the house all day doing nothing? If you don't like the financial security, the fact that we can have house elves and pay them, the fact that if you need a new robe we can afford it, or that Ginger won't ever have to use second hand things, if you don't like it then I can stop 'getting caught up in whatever it is I do'." He turned red, the color he got whenever he was extremely upset. Hermione, though, was past caring, past noticing even.

"I didn't say that! Why are you making this about you!?" she shouted, feeling childish even as she said it. Ron's grip on her loosened and he took a step back as if he had been hit. The look in his eyes was one of wonder,

"I don't remember you being this selfish Hermione. I don't remember marrying a girl who would complain about staying home to ensure the health of an innocent unborn baby. I don't remember a Hermione who couldn't even take care of herself for that child to make sure it's born well and safely. I don't remember you being someone who thought only of their own misery, or someone who didn't try and solve her problems instead of letting them grow…I don't remember you being like this Hermione" his voice was soft, pained even, but it felt like a slap in the face to her and she looked away from him.

"Let go of me Ron" she murmured and his hands left her arms. They stood there in the room with no more than two feet between them but it felt as though a whole ocean's worth of space was there. Ron moved first,

"I'll sleep in the guest room" he murmured and went to change for bed. She left the room, went down the stairs, out the door, and down the driveway. She opened the gate and walked out, only then did the suffocating feeling she'd begun to feel pressing in on her dissipate. She walked down the little road that passed in front of the house and looked at the other houses. The house next door seemed to have a lot of commotion at it; she wandered closer to have a look. It seemed like a magical moving team was busy placing several pieces of ornate furniture into the house. Hermione frowned, she'd thought the Baggett widow lived in the house, she didn't remember her saying anything about moving out.

"Nice house isn't it Granger? Or wait, I keep forgetting it's Weasley now." a familiar drawling voice said from behind her. She whirled around and saw the smirking face of Draco Malfoy.

It had not been long since she had last seen or talked to him. He did, after all, work in the ministry with Ron. Often, when she went to the Ministry to see Ron or to drop something off, she would run into Draco and they would have a little chat. She raised an eyebrow at him,

"It's been Weasley for five years now Draco, you should know that" she said. He smiled a little bitterly.

"Yeah," he said, "yeah I should" A moment of silence stretched between them before she spoke again,

"So, you're moving into this house?" she waved her hand at the movers. He looked over,

"Yeah" he answered simply.

"What happened to your flat?" she asked. He shrugged,

"I went in for a checkup at St. Mungo's and the mediwitch there told me that the London air did no good for me. It seems I have weak resistance to high pollution, comes from living in a world where things like cars and other poison spewing muggle devices were virtually unused. So I thought I'd take a couple weeks off work, sick leave, and move out to the country for some fresh air" Hermione nodded.

"I live in the house next door; we're at the end of a long driveway though so you can't really see the house from the road, very secluded" Draco raised an eyebrow,

"So what're you doing out here? Shouldn't you be chasing around about fifty little redheaded Weasley spawn?" he asked. She smiled sadly and looked away,

"I'm afraid that Grangers aren't nearly as fertile as Weasleys are. I'm not…I can't really take having children, my body that is" Draco seemed to sense that he'd hit upon a sensitive issue and left it alone.

"So," he said cheerfully, "I guess we'll be neighbors from now on. I expect you and ickle Ronniekins over with a magnificent homemade cake or pie or something tomorrow" Hermione began to laugh but was interrupted by someone clearing their throat loudly. She turned around to see Ron standing there looking more than a little irritated,

"Hello Malfoy" he said, a little stiffly, Draco inclined his head "Weasley" he greeted. All the lightheartedness was gone from the atmosphere.

"I see you've moved in, we're neighbors now" Ron said, Draco nodded, "looks that way" he replied. Hermione could sense the remaining dislike the two held for each other. Even after graduating school and working together for such a long time, they still hadn't gotten over their mutual dislike.

"W-well, we'll be over to welcome you properly later on Draco, come on Ron, let's go tuck Ginger in" she said and took Ron's hand, dragging him back down the road towards their house. As they walked away Draco watched them go, no, watched Hermione go, looking wistfully at her retreating form until the darkness made it impossible to see her any more.

The walk home was silent and uncomfortable. Hermione had let go of Ron's hand once they had gotten far enough away from Draco's house and Ron had stalked far ahead of her on the road. She knew he was irritated and probably why. She could just hear him talking already, _'why did you walk so far after you've just been through…that!?' _"that" being the miscarriage (Ron abhorred saying the word as much as he had abhorred saying Voldemort's name in the past years). Hermione steeled herself against the second tirade he would direct at her in a day, the one that was sure to come the second they stepped into the house. But they got into the house and all Ron said to her was a flat "goodnight" before walking up the stairs and into the guest room. She shrugged and figured he was sulking, as he usually did when they fought, and would get over it by the end of tomorrow. Tiredly she climbed the stairs and went to bed, it was only in the darkness, wrapped up in her sheets did she realize she hadn't yet thought of the baby she had lost. Something about the situation felt very unreal to her. It was only a few days before that she had had a baby living inside her and now there was none. She pressed a hand to her stomach and felt the first stirrings of sadness inside her. She wondered what the gender was, she had never thought to ask the doctor. If it had been a boy she would have named him Ronald, if it was another girl she would have named her Elsa. She pressed her hand tighter against her stomach and felt a tear slide down her face. She wondered if Ron knew the gender, if he felt anything about the baby they hadn't gotten to know, if he was alone in the guestroom now crying for their loss. The tears were coming hard and strong now; the loss was becoming very real to her. Perhaps the fight earlier and the exhaustion and the fear had kept her from fully realizing it. _My baby _she thought sadly, _my child_. It was this sadness that she fell into sleep.

She spent the next week in mourning; she and Ron buried their unborn baby and held a very small funeral. It was to be a boy, little Ronald. Ginny had burst into the house sobbing; Mrs. Weasley had come accompanied by the rest of the Weasley clan who had expressed their grief for the lost child. Harry had come, he hadn't said anything but had gathered her in his arms and held her there, she cried with him. Through all the mourning she and Ron kept separate rooms. Ginger had been miserable once they had explained to her that she wouldn't have a little baby brother or sister, that the baby had had to leave them before it had come. She'd asked questions they couldn't answer, she was too young to understand. She stayed home to recuperate and to take care of Ginger, she still had time off work as the maternity leave was still standing baby or not. Before she knew it a month had passed.

**Second Part**

She met him again on her way back from a walk to the village. He was sitting on the porch in front of his house reading when she passed, he called out to her.

"Weasley!" he'd said, and she'd turned, startled, to face him.

"Oh, Draco," she said, "you've never called me Weasley Draco, don't start now it seems as if you're calling Ron" He mock-grimaced

"eugh, okay then, I'll call you Hermione. Come over here, I'm tired of shouting at you" he beckoned to her. She only took a minute to think it over, there were, as always, no chores to be done at the house and Ginger was off at playschool, it should be okay to sit and chat for a while. She went over to him and sat in the chair beside his,

"Excellent weather you people have up here" he remarked. She laughed,

"It usually is very nice, yes" she agreed. They continued to observe the peaceful scene for some time before her spoke again,

"I haven't seen you in a while, what's been going on? I was quite upset that I didn't get my welcoming cake" he said. Her smile froze and suddenly the past month's misery welled up inside her again. 'Ah well, I had a miscarriage and we've been in mourning this month' could she just say something miserable like this? No. Instead she reaffixed a smile to her face,

"Ah well, I've been busy, my daughter has just entered playschool and I've been running about buying her clothes and the like" It was only a little bit of a lie, Ginger HAD entered playschool and she HAD been busy getting her everything but not as busy as she made it sound. But Draco, as she had predicted, knew nothing about children and the like so he accepted this as the truth. Relieved, she relaxed,

"Tell you what, you come to my house and I will make you a cake to make up for my rudeness. What kind do you like best?" she said. Draco smiled,

"Triple chocolate bundt cake" he said. Hermione laughed and stood up

"Come on then, do you want the cake or not?" he stood up and together they walked to her house.

After this encounter she found that she often met Draco. He seemed to work only very late at night until early morning so he was home during the day. This was very beneficial to her as he provided the company she had lacked in the early months of her home confinement. He was engaging and kind, he proved to be more of a conversation partner than Ron had been for a long time. She passed her days with Draco chatting or walking or doing something else. Sometimes he'd just come over to the house and read while she watched television or taught herself to sew. He even met Ginger on a few occasions. Very soon she began to anticipate his visits, began to count down the minutes until Ron left for work and she could go visit Draco. She knew very deep in her heart that it was wrong and that she was being a bad wife but she couldn't bring herself to stop because, to her, he was like water to a man parched with thirst. He took away the loneliness, the isolation, and the rejection that Ron inflicted on her. She was starved for company and friendship and Draco gave it to her.

It was a rainy day. She knew Draco wouldn't be able to come to her through the rain, apparition was impossible on their property unless one was a member of the family or Harry and walking through the gales and pelting rain was very nearly impossible even for a wizard. She felt unhappiness settle over her like a particularly suffocating blanket. Ginger had slept over at a friend's house the night before and they had sent a message saying that it wouldn't be any problem to keep her for the duration of the storm. Hermione was well and truly alone. She sighed and settled down on the couch, prepared to spend the day watching mindless wizard soap operas. It was just as she had switched to "mu jjarata! Il mosta ki averben!" (An Elvin soap that, translated roughly, meant "My daughter! The woman who eats men") that she heard a frantic knocking at the front door. She didn't stir from her place; the house elf that was in charge of receiving guests always became very offended when she answered the door herself.

"Madam, there is a Draco Malfoy" to see you, the squeaky voice of the house elf said. She shot up from her seat and ran to the foyer where indeed there was a very sodden Draco Malfoy standing. She hurried to him,

"What are you doing!? It's like the world is ending out there, why'd you come out!?" she cried. He said nothing; she took his hand and led him upstairs to a bathroom.

"I would just cast a warming charm on you and dry you but sometimes its best to do it naturally. Just sit in there and soak for a bit in hot water, give me your clothes, those I can dry magically" she said. He complied with her orders and she went off to dry his clothes and wait for him to get out of the bath.

It was almost half an hour before Draco reemerged from the bathroom wearing his dried clothes and looking considerably better. He still had yet to say a word.

"Feel better?" she asked, he didn't answer her and she began to feel that something was very strange with him. He sat down across from her, silent as he had been since he entered the house, and simply stared at her. They passed maybe fifteen minutes this way, him staring, her thinking of what was wrong. Just as the tension became too much and she was going to speak, he spoke instead.

"I've liked you since sixth year…and I thought I forgot about it" he stated. The words came to her like a punch in the stomach; the shock of it knocked the breath right out of her body. He continued to speak, seemingly unaware of her surprise,

"I thought watching you get go out with, get married to, and have a baby with Ron Weasley would erase you from me…that day I met you outside my house when I moved in I realized differently…I've tried really hard Hermione…**really **hard to forget you. But you've made it impossible, telling me not to call you your married name took away the reminder that you belonged to some other man, letting me come over to your house took away the barrier of separate homes, letting me so close to you by telling me your thoughts, your feelings, your problems just drew me closer. It took me so long to take it all in, to tie up those feelings and hide them away and I've just let them be dug up again. I was foolish to think I could be friends, and only friends with you. I've wanted you for so long that I can't not want you, I can't stop something that's been building since I was fifteen. I'm sorry…I let you get this close and now I'm pushing you out. Just think of it as if none of this ever happened, I'll find a new place soon and then I'll move out" at the end of his speech Draco got up and exited the room. Vaguely she heard him walk to the door and let himself out into the storm. She sat very still contemplating the sudden confession and what this odd feeling that was coursing through her was.

_I've liked you since sixth year_

Why had she never seen it? Why hadn't she noticed all that time, in school or even out during all those Ministry functions they would see each other at?

_I'm sorry…I let you get this close and now I'm pushing you out…then I'll move out_

Move out? What was he talking about? He couldn't move out! Before she knew what she was doing she had risen from her seat and dashed to the door, pausing only to put on shoes, she ran outside into the storm.

When she caught up to him, panting and completely soaked, he was just about to enter his house. She screamed his name through the howling wind, she supposed it was some sort of link between them that made him turn around and see her running towards him. He ran out to meet her, catching her in his arms and holding her there until she regained her breath. When it seemed that she had calmed down he held her out so he could look into her eyes,

"Hermione!?" he shouted "what are you doi---" but his words were cut off by her mouth sealing itself to his.

It was wet, very wet. But neither minded. The roaring wind that whipped their wet clothes around and tangled their hair seemed to fade into nothing. His arms held her tightly in place, crushing her body to his with the force of many years' worth of longing and she clutched at him with equal force. If asked why she had done it, Hermione was sure she couldn't explain. They stumbled together towards his house, he wrenched open the door and had barely closed it before she was kissing him again.

_I want you _

They didn't seem to be able to be away from each other for very long, he tried to suggest going somewhere, anywhere, but he couldn't be away from her for long enough to get an actual sentence out. He kissed her with all he had, with all the kisses he'd been unable to give to her, all the feeling he hadn't been able to express. His hands slipped beneath her wet clothes and onto her skin, the skin he'd so ached to touch since he'd been fifteen. She shuddered and moaned beneath him, her own hands tracing the ridges of his body. He realized with a start that they were going to have sex.

"Come" he managed to say and got up, picking her up and carrying her up the stairs. They went to his room which was warm, as if welcoming the one and only woman he had ever wanted to bring to his bed. He laid her there gently, liking the way her pale skin looked against his dark blue blanket. He leaned down and kissed her again, tenderly and carefully, she returned the kiss and slid off his shirt. He moved away from her mouth, sliding his lips down her face, placing butterfly kisses along the path his mouth traced. Her ear, the delicate skin of her neck, her collarbone, they all tasted even more delicious than he had ever imagined in his dreams. His lips found her breast, the little nipple, dusky and pink, was erect _for him_. He took it into his mouth and, with extreme pleasure, heard her gasp. He wanted more. He wanted to make her moan, cry, beg, all for him. He wanted to make her forget who she was. The storm raged on outside as he explored her body with his lips, his hands, and his tongue, the tempest of passion that raged within the room made the howling wind and slashing rain seem like a mere drizzle. His touch seemed to burn his name into her body, his lips a brand on hers, his fingers marking her, erasing Ron from her body.

"_Draco_" she moaned his name over and over, threading her fingers through his hair or splaying them across his broad shoulders. "_Draco_" she had never wanted anyone more than she wanted him at the moment, there was nothing in her mind but him. He drove her closer and closer to the edge, his touch sending flames of passion to her most secret place.

"Please" she begged him, she could not wait any longer, she wanted him there. She could feel him, hard and long, she could almost feel him aching for her, and yet he still asked "are you sure?" She leaned up to kiss him.

"Yes"

She had never been more sure of anything in her life.

When he entered her it was as if the whole world ceased to exist. He was an unmistakable presence inside her body now, throbbing and hot within her. She let out one long moan, clutching his shoulders tightly enough to mark them. He whispered into her ear sweetly, lips brushing them as he did. It's okay, I love you, you're beautiful. She stretched to accommodate him and then begged him to move. He did so, slowly at first but gaining speed. The entire world was within a very small sphere for him, it was only the two of them upon that bed. He felt tension build up in him, coiling low inside him. He felt the pleasure in every pore of his body, filling him up until he was sure to burst.

"Draco…Draco…I'm going to…going to" she gasped beneath him. He hugged her closer to him and thrust faster,

"Yes, together, together…let's" he panted. He thrust once powerfully into her, filling her to the hilt and they both cried out, he felt her climax as he filled her with his essence. At the moment their cries mixed with the loudest clap of thunder yet, it shook the house. A bright flash of lighting illuminated the room for a second. When it was over they both collapsed onto the bed, exhausted.

When she found the energy to rise again the storm had calmed. Rain still pelted the windows but the furious winds had died down. She sat up and looked around the room, taking in for the first time the typically Draco decorations and furniture. She was naked and vaguely aching, she hadn't had sex in months and her body had become unaccustomed to it.

Sex…

She winced as the word came to her mind so she pushed it out, focusing instead on watching Draco sleep. There was no doubt that he was a beautiful man. A body kept well in shape, perfectly proportional limbs and extremities, a face that looked as though made by the finest artisans. He was worthy of any woman or man's admiration and even lust. He could get anyone he wanted, wizard or muggle, and yet he wanted her. Even after all these years he still wanted her.

_Bzzzt Bzzzzt_

She looked down at her necklace which was vibrating. It was a new wizard communication device much along the lines of the muggle cell phone. She had gotten one in the shape of a butterfly. The name of the little screen read Ginger. Her heart gave a little start but she answered the call. "Gingey? What's up?" she said, trying to sound normal.

"Mummy, I want to come home now, the rain is better right?" she sounded like she'd been crying, storms always frightened her. She stood up and began to gather her discarded clothes from the floor.

"Alright dearest, mummy will be over to pick you up in a bit" she said and hung up.

"Leaving?" Draco's voice came from behind her. He had woken up and was sitting on the bed as naked as the day he was born, for some reason she felt embarrassed to look at his nakedness. She blushed,

"I'm going to go pick up Ginger, _my daughter_" she said, for some reason emphasizing her words. He nodded and dropped back onto the bed,

"I'll see you then" he said.

For the next week she tried extra hard to be a good mother and a good wife. She greeted Ron warmly when he came home and packed wonderful lunches for Ginger as she left to playschool. She smiled and was cheerful but felt the anxiety build every day, afraid that Ron would look at her and just _know _what she had done, see her for the cheating woman she was. That week passed, and then another, and another. Draco came over every day like normal and they chatted like normal, she always relaxed when he came but also worried that he would want to have sex again. She could never do it in her own house, never in the house her family lived.

In the third week, she and Ron had sex again for the first time in a long time. He apologized and she apologized and he made love to her as tenderly as if it was her first time. She whispered his name and caressed him as he told her he loved her over and over. She moaned at his touches and responded to his kisses, she called his name when he entered her. She clutched at him as he thrust inside her but in her mind all she could see was Draco. His hands were not Draco's hands, his kisses not Draco's kisses. She felt Ron mark her neck and felt as if he was washing away Draco from her body, pressing a seal into her skin that cleansed her of all others. That night, when they were finished, she rose from the bed and wept.

Ron moved back into the room. It was as if their fight had never happened. He kissed her again, called her things like "sweetheart" and "love". It seemed as though he was waiting for her to forgive him before he felt it safe to return to the way it had been. He was happy and Ginger was happy, but Hermione could not forget Draco, Draco who loved her, Draco who looked at her with such longing.

Three days after Ron and her shared the same bed; Draco had sex with her again. This time there was no tenderness. He poured into it every ounce of lust he had held in for the past few weeks, taking her with an intensity different from the kind he had shown that night that seemed so long ago. He had been so rough with her, holding her hard enough to bruise. He apologized when he saw the marks of his passion branded on her skin. The purple bruises stood out garishly against her pale complexion. He apologized again and again. She only told him not to worry, it was not rape, she hadn't said no.

Two weeks later she found out she was pregnant.

**Third Part**

The mediwitch who examined her told her she was only about two weeks in. Ron was worried about her, how could this happen again!? She was to be put under a strict diet and given pills every day to help strengthen her and the baby. She resigned from her job, there was no point in keeping it now, she would have to take another leave. Her friends arrived to congratulate her and their house was once again filled with joy. But again Hermione behaved better than she felt. Her anxiety was crushing her, pressing down harder as the days went by. Whose child was it? Whose baby was she carrying?

She sat alone, hugging her knees to her body, looking out the window at the full moon outside. On the bed Ron snored away, happily immersed in a dream. She looked at him from her perch on the window seat, taking in his features which she knew as well as her own. The freckles, the long nose, the red hair, everything she'd loved about him for as long as she could remember. He was understanding and caring if sometimes insensitive and a little selfish. She didn't deserve him; she knew it with a certainty that rocked her to her core. She stood and went to Ginger's room, looked down at her sleeping child who she had neglected, the sweet little miracle that was hers and Ron's. What had she done to deserve such a mother, one whose selfishness led her to deceit? She left Ginger's room, left the house entirely, and walked down the road. It was a clear and quiet night; the road was lit by the cold moonlight. All was still as she walked down the road, knowing where her feet led her. She knocked on his door, wrapped in one of Ron's old sweatshirts as if it was a shield. He opened the door, ruffled and obviously just from sleep. They hadn't seen each other since that night two weeks ago, he looked at her with tired eyes.

"I'm sorry" she said. He recoiled as if struck but remained in the doorway, looking at her. She continued,

"I'm going to have a baby, Ron's baby" she said. He stood there, stunned, and waited for her to continue for surely she had more to say.

"I'm sorry…I love you" she whispered and leaned up to place a chaste kiss on his lips before turning and fleeing. He watched her go, he did not call her back. He would stand in the doorway for a long time, shock tattooed on his face, his hand where his heart was and where it felt as if something had just broken.

**Final Part**

He was named Fred Arturo Weasley. The birth had been difficult for her but she had made it safely through, both the baby and herself emerged alive. When the nurses handed her the swathed bundle, she noted that he was oddly quiet, not squalling like other babies. She had looked down at him, expecting to see him sleeping, but was startled to look into blue-gray eyes. The nurses told her that the eye color would eventually change to be blue. After that Ron and Ginger with Harry in tow came into the room all smiles and happiness. But they were lost to her, all she could see was the silently staring baby who, at that moment, looked exactly like Draco.

**End**


End file.
